SINGING  FIRES 
OF  ^RIN 

(By 
ELEANOR  ROGERS  COX 


UC-NRLF 


312   333 


GIFT  OF 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 


S1DBP5  FIC6S 
OF  GIZID 

By  ELEANOR.    ROGERS     COX 

DESIGNS  ^K  c/<X%V  f>. 


NewYorlc-jOHN  LANE  COMPANY'MCMXVI 


COPYRIGHT,  1916, 
BY  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


All  rights  of  reproduction  of 
the  designs  in  this  volume 
are  reserved  by  the  artist, 
Mr.  John  P.  Campbell. 


U 


Press  oi 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Company 
New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

ALFRED  PERCEVAL  GRAVES 

THESE  SONGS  OF  HEROIC  IRELAND,  WRITTEN  IN 

THE  UNITED  STATES,  ARE  DEDICATED,  IN 

MEMORY  OF  HIS  LONG,  DEVOTED  AND 

HONORABLE  SONG-SERVICE  TO 

THAT  DEAR  MOTHERLAND 


341938 


'T^HE  author  returns  thanks  for  permis- 
-*•  sion  to  use  in  this  collection  of  her 
poems,  those  which  have  appeared  in  The 
Century  Magazine,  The  Smart  Set,  The 
New  York  Times,  Harper's  Weekly,  The 
Rosary,  the  Gaelic-American,  The  Irish- 
American,  Sinn  Fein,  etc. 


Contents 
I.  SINGING  FIRES 

PACK 

Singing  Fire II 

Deirdre  to  her  Women 13 

Finovar   Dead 18 

Gods  and  Heroes  of  the  Gael     ...  21 

/-"A  Greek  Lover  of  Queen  Maeve  .      .  24 

A  Song  of  Cormac  Conloingias  ...  27 

^  JEngus  Og  and  the  Swan-Maiden     .      .  31 
To  your  Palace  of  Golden  Dreams,  O 

^Engus! 33 

One  Goes  to  Brugh 36 

The  Goming  of  Lugh 37 

Dectera's  Cradle-Song  to  Cuchulain     .  39 

yf  + 

Song  of  Emer 41 

A  Ballad  of  Dead  Queens  ....  43 

Death  of  Cuchulain 45 

The  Coming  of  Finn 48 

Goddess  and  Poet 51 

A  Ballad  of  Queen  Etain     ....  53 

The  Spirits. Mourn  for  j*Engus  ...  56 
7 


CONTENTS 

II.  A  HOSTING  OF  HEROES 

PAGE 

A  Hosting  of  Heroes     .      .      /  .      .  61 

The  Dream  of  j^Engus  Og  .  V    ...  63 

Flight  of  Diarmuid  and  Grainne     .      .  66 
Diarmuid  and  Grainne  at  the  Forest  of 

Dooris 70 

Grainne  Returns  to  Tara     ....  73 

Cuchulain 78 

Cuchulain's  Wooing 80 

Emer's  Girlhood 82 

Cuchulain  to  the  Poets 84 

An  Earth  Spirit 86 

The  Magic  Isles  of  Manannan  ...  87 

The  Last  of  the  Fianna 90 

Of  One  Who  Died  in  Murias  ...  93 

The   Sleeping  Knight 95 

Dreaming  of  Cities  Dead     ....  98 

The  Singers  to  Their  Lady  .      .      .      .  ioo 

An  Irish  Enchantment 101 

O  Radiant  Faith  of  Ireland      .      .      .  103 

Legendary  and  Mythological  Index     .  107 


I 

SINGING  FIRES 


Singing  Fire 
(SABA  COMES  TO  FINN) 

IN  beauty  clad  as  in  a  singing  fire, 

And  soft  as  stars  that  down  the  twilight 

creep, 

So  from  the  greenwood  in  the  day's  rose- 
dawning, 

She  came  to  Finn  across  the  fields  of 
Sleep. 

Athwart  the  gates  of  Sleep  she  shone  upon 

him, 
And   in   his   soul    awoke   young   April 

streams 

Of  Hope,  of  Joy,  of  poet-love  supernal, 
And  filled  with  singing  fire  were  all  his 
dreams. 

And  waking  with  the  morn's  first  argent 

gleaming, 

To  faery  harpings  in  the  grass  and  air, 
ii 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

The  woodland  maid  predestined  for  his 

mating, 

Earth's  virgin  flower  she  stood  before 
him  there. 

Within  her  eyes  the  calm  of  sylvan  spaces 
By  any  wind  of  mortal  life  unstirred, 

And  silver  cadences  of  elfin  laughter 
Under  the  moon  in  forest-places  heard. 

And  all  around  them  rose  a  flame  of  sing- 

ing, 
Wherein  all  breathing  Nature  bore  its 

part, 

As,  with  high  vows  of  knightly  faith  un 
swerving, 

Finn  drew  the  dream-seen  Saba  to  his 
heart. 

So,  from  the  light  of  deathless  love  en 
kindled 
In  their  bright  spirits  on  that  gracious 

morn, 

A  star  to  shine  on  Eire's  way  forever, 
The  singing  fire  of  Ossian's  song  was 
born. 

12 


Deirdre  to  Her  Women 

Now  Night,  a  purple  wizard,  down  the 
hills 

Walks,  and  the  shadows  with  strange  whis 
pers  fills, 

And  broken  laughter-drifts,  and  ...  a 
little  tune 

Naoise  and  I  sang  often  to  the  Moon; 

A  song  of  two  who  once  upon  a  night 

Had  fled  and  wed  in  a  High  King's 
despite, 

And  seaward  laughing  from  his  anger  ran 

Down  cloudy  ways  untrod  of  god  or  man ; 

And  so  took  ship  .  .  .  but  wherefore  tell 
again 

A  story  time-dried  on  the  lips  of  men : 

Time-dried,  time-cried,  for  to  earth's  ut 
most  years, 

Lovers,  I  think,  shall  speak  this  thing  with 
tears; 

And  harpers  chaunt  to  chords  of  cadenced 
pain, 

13 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

How  Deirdre  widowed  was,  and  Naoise 

slain ; 
Their  glance  enfettered  by  that  thrice-filled 

grave, 
And  the  pale  Queen  who  loved,  but  might 

not  save.  .  .  . 

But  not  thus  shall  you  speak  it — you  who 

know 
With  what  unquelled  soul  in  high  ways  I 

go; 

Bringing  unto  the  state  of  Ulster's  king 
Such  pride  as  it  is  meet  his  Queen  should 

bring; 
Such  pride  as  one  may  know  who  from 

Life's  heart 
Seized  with  sure  hands  its  one  unfailing 

part; 
Holding    it   yet,   yea,    even   through    this 

Night, 

This  dearth  of  all  desire  and  all  delight, 
Undimmed  as  on  that  hour  it  first  became 
Life  of  her  own  life,  flame  of  her  soul's 

flame. 

H 


DEIRDRE  TO  HER  WOMEN 

But  say  it  over  and  over  again — like  this : 
In   slow-paced  words,    such   as   befit   the 

tongue 

Of  mortals  gauging  an  immortal  bliss : 
"For  seven   full  years,   strong,  beautiful 

and  young, 
These  twain  dwelt  in  a  wood  beyond  the 

seas, 
Knew   the    wild    fellowship    of    sun    and 

breeze, 
With  lips  untired  each  morning  quaffed 

Life's  cup, 
That     laughter,      song     and     loveliness 

brimmed  up; 
And  counting,  level-eyed,  their  rapture's 

cost, 

Cried  ever,  'Well  for  this  is  all  else  lost! 
Yea,  well  for  this  that  yet  upon  a  morn 
Whereof  the  gods  know,  Death  the  mate 

twin-born, 
The  bane,  the  flower,  the  crowning  of  our 

love, 

Shall  smite  out  utterly  the  light  thereof; 
Shall  smite  the  cup  alike  from  hand  and 

mouth 

15 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

While  yet  the  clasp  is  strong,  unquencht 
the  drouth, 

Shall  make  of  this,  our  Love's  bright- 
blossomed  prime, 

Only  a  wailing  on  the  lips  of  Time.'  ' 

Yea,  had  this  life  lasted  but  seven  days, 
Yet  were  it  matter  for  wonder  and  great 

praise: 
For  well  you  know  how  Love's  red  cheek 

grows  pale 

Oft  in  a  week,  and  honey-cloyed  and  stale, 
Ere  ever  yet  a  new  moon  take  the  place 
Of  that  which  smiled  upon  its  infant  face. 
And  if,  as  presently,  perchance  I  chose 
The   bonds   of   this   too-shining   state   to 

loose ; 

If,  from  this  splendid  void  and  nothing 
ness, 

Your  twilight  faces,  Conchubar's  caress, 
I  step  with  foot  and  spirit  unafraid 
Into  that  other  Void  where  Naoise's  shade 
Wanders,   awaiting  mine,   be  yours   this 

pride 

To  tell  how  well  it  was  we  loved  and  died: 
16 


DEIRDRE  TO  HER  WOMEN 

Adding  this  word  to  make  your  tale  com 
plete, 

"Where  great  Love  is,  Death  is  not,  nor 
Defeat." 


Finovar  Dead 

DOWN  the  dark  ways,  down  the  dim  ways, 

down  the  ways  unknown, 
Finovar,  beloved  of  princes,  lo,  she  goes 

alone ! 
She   whose   face   a    rose   of   flame   shone 

where  the  sword-blades  crossed, 
She  whose  love  a  windy  flame  led  where 

Death's  whirlpools  tossed; 
She    the    wine    of   whose    bright    beauty 

dashed  from  waiting  lips, 
Earth  for  thought  of  that  it  loses  bows  in 

awed  eclipse. 

Poppies,  poppies,  scarlet  poppies  for  her 

brow  and  breast — 
Shall  not  Death  himself  come  kneeling  to 

receive  this  guest? 
Down  the  wraith-pale  line  of  heroes  what 

red  joy  shall  run, 
As  among  them  yet  ensanguined  of  the 

wind  and  sun, 

18 


FINOVAR  DEAD 

Flower-crowned,  gold-crowned,  fair  past 
any  eyes  of  men  have  known, 

Shines  their  lady's  face  upon  them  as  of 
old  it  shone. 

What  mad  poet  raised  that  chaunting? 
Bid  him  thitherwards — 

Mark  how  still  to-day  the  princess  goes 
among  her  lords; 

Still  as  Ferdia  on  that  morning  when  upon 
their  shields 

Backward  here  his  warriors  bore  him 
through  the  sleeping  fields; 

Still  as  crimson  plains  of  battle  in  a  win 
ter's  dawn, 

Beacon-fires  turned  pallid  ashes,  warring 
armies  gone. 

All  the  beauty  of  the  world  is  less  for  that 

she  takes 
With    her    where    no    blast    of    morning 

Night's  dim  empire  shakes ; 
In    far    Brugh    love's    eye    seeks 

through  a  clouding  rain, 
19 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

Twilight-pale  the  incensed  fires  on  his 
altars  wane : 

And  a  wind  of  Danaan  laughter  flies  along 
the  swords, 

Where  the  silent  hosts  of  Erin  camp  be 
side  the  fords. 


20 


Gods  and  Heroes  of  the  Gael 

FORTH  in  shining  phalanx  marching  from 

the  shrouding  mists  of  time, 
Bright  the  sunlight  on  their  foreheads, 

bright  upon  their  golden  mail, 
Lord  of  beauty,  lords  of  valor,  lords  of 

Earth's  unconquered  prime, 
Come  the  gods,  the  kings,  the  heroes  of 
the  Gael. 

Lugh,  the  splendor  of  whose  shining  lit 

the  forest  and  the  fen, 
He  whose  smile  at  first  illuming  all  the 

shadow-haunted  space 
Of    the    vast,     primeval    ranges,    death- 
engirdled,  shunned  of  men, 
Over  virgin  seas  to  Erin  led  our  race. 

Mananaan,    great    lord    of    Ocean  —  he 

whose  fair  domain  outspread 

Wheresoever  tides  foam-flowered  to  the 

moon's  high  mandate  move, 

21 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

.^Engus,  clothed  in  youth  immortal,  on  im 
mortal  ardors  fed, 

Who  of  old  in  golden  Brugh  reigned 
lord  of  Love. 

And  his  name  a  knightly  pennon  on  the 

ramparts  of  the  world, 
And  his  fame  a  fire  unfailing  on  Time's 

utmost  purple  height, 
Erin's   peerless   gage    of   courage   to   the 

vaunting  ages  hurled — 
Sunward  evermore  Cuchulain  holds  his 
flight. 

They  are  coming  with  the  silver  speech  of 

Erin  on  their  lips; 
The  speech  that  once  of  all  the  mighty 

Celtic  race  made  kin, 
They  are  coming  with  the  laughter  that 

has  known  no  age-eclipse, 
They  are  coming  with  the  songs  beloved 
of  Finn. 

Yea,  with  gifts  regenerating  to  all  men  of 
women  born — 

22 


GODS  AND  HEROES  OF  GAEL 

Flame  of  courage  that  shall  fade  not, 

flame  of  truth  that  shall  not  fail, 
To  the  music  of  a  thousand  harps  they're 
marching  through  the  Morn, 

Deathless  gods  and  kings  and  heroes  of 
the  Gael! 


A  Greek  Lover  of  Queen  Maeve 

How  shall  my  song  reach  to  her  where 

afar, 

She  walks  by  streams  unlit  of  sun  or  star; 
Walks  dreamingly,  as  one  who  in  a  glass 
Beholds  the  wraiths  of  perished  lovers 

pass: 
Smiling  to  each  pale  face  with  lips  that 

saith, 
"How  fares  it,  love,  in  the  dim  fields  of 

Death?" 

For  just  with  such  a  smile — earth's  last 

delight — 
Glanced  she  adown  the  torchlit  hall  that 

night; 
Herself   a   white   rose   'mid   a   hedge   of 

spears, 
Set  far  past  range   of  mortal  hopes  or 

fears: 

So  steel-bright  'mid  its  steel  engirdlement, 
Shone  that  white,  moveless  face  upon  me 

bent. 

24 


A  LOVER  OF  QUEEN  MAEVE 

White  face — whose  fame  on  scented  sea- 
winds  sped, 

Me  thitherwards  to  that  far  land  had  led, 

From  templed  groves  where  sage  and  stu 
dent  walked, 

And  storied  ways  where  moonlight  lovers 
talked ; 

From  all  delights  of  mind  and  heart  that 
lie 

Betwixt  our  kind  Athenian  soil  and  sky. 

But  ah,  that  hour,  which  far  repaid  all 
cost 

Of  lesser  loves,  of  gods  and  country  lost, 

When  on  a  dream-starred  night  that  great 
Queen  leant 

Her  cheek  to  mine,  and  all  our  spirits 
blent 

In  one  long  wonder-glance,  one  earth- 
eclipse 

Of  touching  hands,  of  meeting  eyes  and 
lips! 

A  time  for  all  things — with  unfluttered 
breath 

25 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

The   flame-bright  lips   proclaimed — "His 

sentence — Death!" 
While   wild,    reverberate    echoes    of    her 

word 

The  brazen  rafters  of  the  palace  stirred, 
And  hail-swift  down  on  sense  and  sound 

and  sight 
The  smiting  shields  descended  through  the 

night. 

Bright  love,  delight  and  death — for  this  I 

came 

To  that  far  land :  for  this  a  little  flame 
Smaller  than  any  star  on  night's  pale  edge, 
My  soul,  a  white  moth  flits  by  sand  and 

sedge ; 

Flits  evermore,  till  in  the  ceaseless  whir 
Of  Time's  great  wings  it  win  again  to  her. 


A  Song  of  Cormac  Conloingias 


THE   PLANTING  OF  THE  TREE 

"THAT  something  shall  remain  to  tell 
Of  all  the  joy  that  once  was  ours, 
Of  all  our  high  and  dream-filled  hours 
Ere  ever  Death  upon  us  fell. 
For  sight,  for  sign,  for  memory 
Of  all  that  made  our  love  divine, 
Lo,  here,"  she  said,  "O  Cormac  mine, 
I  plant  this  day  a  little  tree." 

"For  that  first  day  when  here  you  came, 
For  that  first  hour  when  in  our  eyes 
Shone  forth  in  mutual,  swift  surprise 
Our  spirits'  new-enkindled  flame. 
For  that  long  wonder-night  when  I, 
Our  love's  first  consecrating  kiss 
Yet  on  my  mouth,  in  sleepless  bliss 
Watched  till  the  morn  flamed  down  the 
sky." 

27 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

"This  little  tree — to  moon  and  star, 
Through  all  the  star-filled  nights  of  June, 
Its  leaves  shall  sing  a  magic  rune 
To  woo  us  from  the  shades  afar. 
The  sea-bound  winds  shall  list  the  tale, 
And  to  the  utmost  isles  of  earth 
Shall  bear  it  on,  till  midst  their  mirth 
Kings  at  its  hearing  shall  grow  pale." 

"For  you,  O  Cormac,  son  of  kings  — 
Fire  in  your  veins  and  on  your  lips — 
Already  lowers  Death's  eclipse, 
Your  dirge  the  white  Shee-maiden  sings. 
Though     diamond  -  bright     is     Emain's 

throne, 

And  many  roads  to  Emain  lead, 
And  you  are  last  of  Connor's  seed, 
You  ride  a  darker  road  alone." 

"For  I,  whose  love  a  net  of  Death 
Was  round  about  your  spirit  cast, 
Behold,  even  now,  I  hold  you  fast 
By  spell  of  eyes  and  hands  and  breath. 
My  treasure  plucked  from  out  the  core 
Of  life  at  its  resplendent  prime, 
28 


SONG  OF  CORMAC  CONLOINGIAS 

My  love,  whom  Death,  the  lord  of  Time, 
Shall  seal  mine  own  forevermore." 

"Yea,  mine  past  hap  of  mortal  change, 
Past  other  loves  to  come  between, 
Past  lure  of  goddess  or  of  queen, 
Past  beauty's  waning  to  estrange. 
Though  all  our  life's  high  holiday 
Draw  to  a  twilight  grey  and  chill, 
Though  gift  of  years  were  mine  to  will, 
I  would  not,  dare  not,  bid  you  stay." 


II 

THE   CRIMSON  FRUITAGE 

Out  of  the  West  the  King's  son  came, 
Through  flame  of  the  dying  day  rode  he, 
And  where  the  rowans  lean  to  the  South, 
Deep  in  the  garden  of  my  mouth 
He  planted  flowering  kisses  three. 

He  said  that  he  would  come  again, 
He  plucked  the  rowan  berries  red, 
He  fashioned  them  into  a  crown, 
29 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

And  from  his  fair  height  stooping  down, 
He  bound  and  wound  them  round  my 
head. 

And  swift  and  sweet  across  my  eyes 
The  life-touch  of  his  lips  flashed  then: 
"And  thus,"  he  said,  "O  heart's  delight, 
I  lay  me  on  your  breath  and  sight, 
To  keep  until  I  come  again." 

And  now  the  rowan  boughs  are  brown, 
But  red  the  roads  from  Connacht  are, 
And  they  have  raised  his  Ogham  stone 
O'er  Cormac  where  he  sleeps  alone, 
From  Emain  of  the  Kings  afar. 


-/Engus  Og  and  the  Swan-Maiden 

ROSE-RED  o'er  the  glimmering  marshes, 
Rose-red  o'er  the  darkling  lake, 

Lo !  the  face  of  the  Dawn  outflashes 
From  the  faery  Moon's  grey  wake, 

And  I  through  the  reeds  elve-haunted, 
The  road  to  my  true  love  take. 

Rose-white  is  the  breast  of  my  true  love- 
Yea,  whiter  than  drifting  snow; 

And  for  her  are  the  dim  reeds  singing 
A  murmurous  sleep-song  low, 

As  yonder  beneath  their  shadows 
Dreaming  her  white  wings  go. 

Rose  of  the  Dawn,  'mid  the  lilies, 
Her  flower-fair  way  she  keeps, 

How  from  that  dream  shall  I  rouse  her, 
How  for  the  spirit  that  sleeps, 

Give  her  the  soul  of  a  woman, 
A  woman  that  laughs  and  weeps. 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

Rose  of  the  World!   from  thy  dreaming 

I  bid  thee  awake !    Arise ! 
From  the  floor  of  the  shimmering  waters, 

From  the  roof  of  the  open  skies, 
Come  with  the  love-light  gleaming 

In  thy  heart,  thy  lips,  thine  eyes ! 

Rose  of  my  life,  and  its  crowning! 

Flower  of  the  Dream  and  the  Dawn, 
Now  is  my  long  quest  over, 

Now  is  the  grim  Night  gone, 
Yonder  the  sun  exultant 

Rises  and  beckons  us  on  1 


To  Your  Palace  of  Golden  Dreams, 
O  JEngusl 

To   your   palace    of    golden    dreams,    O 


Lo,  to  rekindle  a  dream  one  goes, 
To   your   garden    of    golden    dreams,    O 


One  to  garner  the  Deathless  Rose. 

And  the  sun  and  the  moon  and  the  stars, 

O  ^Engus  ! 
And  twilight  and  night  and  the  rose-red 

dawn 
And   the    singing   waves    of   the    sea,    O 

.^Engus  ! 
Are  wooing  and  luring  my  footsteps  on. 

And  the  song  you  sang  to  Etain,  O  ^Engus, 

And  the  song  the  swan-maid  sang  to  you 

And   the    singing   waves    of    the    sea,    O 

-ZEngus  ! 

Are  wafting  my  spirit  back  to  Brugh. 
33 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

To  Brugh  where  lingers  the  Love  that  dies 

not, 
To  Brugh  where  yet  of  the  years  un- 

dimmed, 

Bright  as  the  stars  of  Earth's  first  morn 
ing, 
Dwells  the  Beauty  of  poets  hymned. 

And  one  with  the  rising  day,  O  ^Engus, 
Shall  come  to  you,  call  to  you,  sleeping 

there, 
And   you    from    the    shrouding    clay,    O 

^Engus! 

Shall  rise   flame-bright  to  your  poet's 
prayer. 


34 


One  Goes  to  Brugh 

HERE,  where  silence  like  a  prayer, 

Binds  the  spirit  in  its  spell, 
Here  where  peerless,  shining,  fair, 

Thou,  O  ^Engus,  once  didst  dwell ! 

Here,  where  guided  by  the  gleam 

Of  no  earth-seen  sun  or  star, 
I  the  Dreamer  of  a  Dream, 

Come  to  thee  from  fields  afar. 

Here,  where  ranged  like  wizards  hoar, 
Brooding  through  the  tranced  day, 

On  the  rites  they  knew  of  yore, 
Rise  the  Druid-altars  grey. 

Here  to  grace  thy  poet's  sighs, 
Here  to  gladden  soul  and  sight, 

Wilt  thou  not  awake  and  rise, 

Crowned    and    plumed    and    wreathed 
with  light? 

35 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

Girt  about  with  singing  flame, 

Through  whose  radiance  one  may  see 

Gold-bright  birds  that  hymn  thy  name 
In  a  dreaming  ecstasy. 

Swifter  than  a  poet's  thought 
Borne  upon  the  wings  of  Morn, 

Rise,  with  love  and  rapture  fraught 
To  all  men  of  women  born ! 


The  Coming  of  Lugh 

DECTERA    SINGS 

AWAKE,  my  soul!     Awake,  and  sing! 
Across  the  foam's  white  blossoming 
Comes  now  thy  lover  and  thy  king. 

The  cuckoo  calls  the  drowsing  May, 
Behind  the  whitethorn's  latticed  spray 
The  blackbird  pipes  his  heart  away. 

A  magic  laughter  floods  and  fills 
The  song  of  Spring-awakened  rills, 
And  unseen  harpers  walk  the  hills. 

Along  the  mountains'  purple  ledge 
The  Shee  arise  from  fern  and  sedge 
To  dance  upon  the  daylight's  edge. 

Through  all  green  life  that  buds  and  blows, 
And  with  glad  Summer's  prescience  glows, 
A  rout  of  Danaan  laughter  goes. 
37 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

And  I,  the  mortal  girl  who  won 
Thy  love,  O  brightest-shining  one, 
Await  thee  here,  my  life,  my  Sun ! 


Dectera's  Cradle-Song  to  Cuchulain 

IT  was  great  Lugh  himself  from  heaven, 
Came  down  to  be  my  lord,  my  love, 
To  me  his  plighted  faith  was  given, 
And  this,  the  flower  and  fruit  thereof. 

Then  sing,  my  soul,  thy  lord  the  sun, 
Sing  for  the  little  life  begun; 
Sing  for  the  crown  thy  land  hath  won 
To  light  her  brows  forever. 

My  little  son !  whose  shining  way 
Shall  lie  across  the  risen  day; 
Thee  Fear  shall  touch  not,  nor  dismay, 
Nor  blight  of  mortal  sorrow. 

A  laughter  on  the  edge  of  swords, 
A  war-song  chaunted  at  the  fords, 
A  death-bolt  launched  'mid  hostile  hordes, 
O  child  who  shall  withstand  thee? 

39 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

A  torch  to  guide  the  eyes  of  men 
Past  deeps  of  quicksand  and  of  fen, 
Beyond  where  even  thy  mother's  ken 
May  follow,  lo,  thy  way  lies ! 

Far,  far  beyond  the  furthest  flight 
Of  song  or  star,  thy  fame's  fair  flight, 
As,  son  of  Light,  towards  the  light 
Thou  goest  forever. 


40 


Song  of  Emer 

IN  the  red  of  the  windy  Dawn, 

Through   the   honey-sweet,   dew-bright 

clover, 
Over  mount,  over  mead,  over  lawn 

He  is  coming,  my  lord,  my  lover ! 

From  the  heart  of  the  utmost  Night 
Where    nor    elf-flame    nor    star-flame 

lightens, 
Lo,  he  holds  to  my  heart  his  flight, 

Lo,  he  comes  with  a  brow  that  bright 
ens! 

There  is  laughter  upon  his  mouth 
For  the  rapturous  mirth  of  living, 

For  the  lips  that  shall  slake  its  drouth 
And  sing  to  the  gods  for  the  giving. 

There  is  laughter  for  battles  won, 
There  is  laughter  for  Right  defended, 

There  is  laughter  for  Justice  done, 
In  the  blue  eye  falcon-splendid. 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

Where  the  red  of  his  chariot  gleams 
There  are  songs  on  the  lips  of  women, 

There  is  praise  on  the  tongue  of  Queens, 
There  is  Fear  on  the  face  of  foemen. 

And  bright  as  his  sun-bright  sword 

When  it  leaps  to  the  foeman's  slaying, 

Is  the  light  on  the  head  of  my  lord, 
Is  the  light  on  his  gold  hair  playing. 

And  when  in  the  unseen  days 

The  poets  their  praises  chaunting, 

Shall  utter  Cuchulain's  praise, 
Shall  sing  of  his  valor  vaunting: 

Me  too,  his  beloved,  they  shall  sing, 
No  praise  to  my  name  refusing, 

The  Queen  of  their  soul's  dead  King, 
The  bride  of  his  heart's  first  choosing. 


42 


A  Ballad  of  Dead  Queens 
[EMER] 

IN  all  the  twilight  realm  of  dreams,  I  wis, 
There  walks  no  Queen  so  high-hearted  as 

this, 
Who,  gazing  on  her  King  and  Sweetheart 

dead, 
Sped  forth   her  soul  to  his   in   one  last 

kiss. 

Other  great  Queens  in  that  dim  purple 

space 
There  dwell,  of  whose  bright  loveliness 

and  grace 

Poets  have  sung,  until  some  trait  of  theirs 
Each  lover  sees  in  his  own  lady's  face. 

The  shining  Daughter  of  the  Swan,  and 

she 

Who  once  with  Tristram  on  a  summer  sea 
Under  the  witch-light  of  a  waning  moon 
Drank  deep  the  chalice  of  their  destiny. 

43 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

Pale  Guinevere,  her  eyes  yet  heavy-fraught 
With  dreams  of  two  who  rode  to  Camelot, 
And  mouth  that  still,  for  all  the  dead, 

dumb  years 
Is  dewy  with  the  breath  of  Lancelot. 

But  on  her  heart  the  Rose  Inviolate 
Of  love  triumphant  over  Death  and  Fate, 
Of  Love  that  perished  on  the  lips  that  fed, 
Queen  Emer  holds  unchanged  her  royal 
state. 


44 


Death  of  Cuchulain 

SILENT  are  the  singers  in  the  purple  halls 

of  Emain, 
Silent  all  the  harp-strings  untouched  of 

any  hand, 
Wan  as  twilight-roses  the  radiant,  royal 

women, 

Black  upon  the   hearthstone   the   erst 
while  flaming  brand. 

Inward  far  from  ocean  the  storm's  white 

birds  are  flying, 
Darting,  like  dim  wraith-flames  across 

the  falling  night, 

Winds  like  a  caoine  through  the  quicken- 
groves  are  sighing, 
On  no  lip  is  laughter,  in  no  heart  de- 


For    thitherwards    witch-wafted    athwart 

the  sundering  spaces, 
Lo,  a  word  doom-freighted  unto  Con- 
chubar  has  come, 
45 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

Whispering  of  one  who  in  far-off,  hostile 

places 

Strikes  a  last  defending  blow  for  king 
and  home. 

And  the  King  pacing  lone  in  his  place  of 

High  Decision, 

Gazing  with  wrapt  eyes  on   that  far- 
flung  battle-plain, 
Through  the  red  rains  rising  beholds  with 

startled  vision 

Sight  such  as  man's  eye  shall  not  see 
again. 

For  one  there  is  dying,  of  his  foes  at  last 

outnumbered, 
One  whose  soul  a  sword  was,  shaped 

by  God's  own  hand, 
One  who  guarded  Ulaidh  when  all  her 

knighthood  slumbered, 
Prone  beneath  the  curse  laid  of  old  upon 
the  land. 

And  dying  so,   alone,   of  all  mortal  aid 
forsaken, 

46 


DEATH  OF  CUCHULAIN 

Dead  his  peerless  war-steeds,  dead  his 

charioteer, 

Yet  the  high  splendor  of  his  spirit  all  un 
shaken, 

Shines     morning-bright     through     the 
Death-mists  drawing  near. 

And  radiant  round  his  brow  yet  the  hero- 
flame  is  gleaming, 

And  firm  yet  his  footstep  upon  the  red 
dened  sod, 
As  with  sword  uplifted  towards  the  day's 

last  beaming, 

Forth  goes  the  spirit  of  Cuchulain  unto 
God. 

Leaving  to  his  land  and  the  Celtic  race 

forever 

That  which  shall  not  fail  them  through 
out  the  fading  years, 
Heritage    of    faith    unchanged,    of   fear- 

undimmed  endeavor, 
And  a  quenchless  laughter  ringing  down 
the  edge  of  hostile  spears. 


47 


The  Coming  of  Finn 

"THE  Norsemen's  ships  are  in  the  Bay, 
To-morrow  ere  the  throstle  calls 

Good-morning  to  the  risen  day, 

The  wizard  comes  to  fire  my  walls." 

"The  gods  are  of  inconstant  mind, 
And  of  their  ancient  faith  forswore, 

The  sun,  the  moon,  the  stars,  the  wind, 
I  pray  to  them,  but  pray  no  more." 

So  spake  King  Cormac  to  his  lords, 
In  Erin's  ancient  council-place, 

A  freighted  silence  drank  his  words, 
And  no  man  looked  him  in  the  face. 

But  at  the  outer  portal  came 

The  answer  to  a  challenge  flung, 
An  age-grey  Druid  spoke  the  name 

Of  Cumhal,  long  of  poets  sung. 
48 


THE  COMING  OF  FINN 

And  with  that  saying  one  strode  in, 
Of  height  so  great,  of  mien  so  fair, 

The  high  gods  might  have  deemed  him  kin, 
Nor  less  he  seemed  to  any  there. 

"And  what  strange  word  is  this  I  hear?" 
He  said,  "that  strikes  your  laughter 
still, 

That  through  the  Dawn  a  Shape  of  Fear 
Walks  unassailed  on  Tara's  Hill?" 

"That,  kindled  by  his  baleful  hands, 
The  flames  shall  flash  on  Tara's  height, 

And  Tara's  self  be  but  a  brand 

Flung    red    against    the    morn's    pale 
light!" 

"And,  for  this  Shape  derives  its  birth 
From  spirits  to  our  land  malign, 

Shall  it  be  whispered  round  the  earth 
That  Erin's  valor  grows  supine?" 

"Nay,  never  so;  against  all  odds 
Of  Hate,  of  Treachery,  of  Force, 

49 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

Of  jealous  men  or  hostile  gods 

Must     Erin's     knighthood     hold     its 


course.'* 


"And  I,  unto  her  service  vowed, 
Ere  ever  yet  the  morrow's  born, 

Myself  shall  seek  this  wizard  proud, 
And   smite   him   hence   to    shame    and 
scorn!" 

So  spoke  great  Finn,  his  task  begun, 
So,  Fear-destroying  down  the  day 

Flamed  Erin's  young,  imperial  Sun 
Of  Truth  and  Faith  and  Chivalry. 


Goddess  and  Poet 

WITH  Love-sandalled  feet  o'er-stepping 

Night's  ensabled  bars, 
With  thy  maiden  train  descending 

Down  a  stair  of  stars: 
Far  beyond  the  utmost  splendor 

Of  Desire  or  dream, 
Thou  upon  thy  poet's  vision, 

Goddess,  soon  shall't  gleam! 

Each  man's  vision  to  his  fancy — 

Mine  was  one  of  flame, 
Wandering  here  'mid  Beltane  fires 

Oft  I  called  thy  name; 
Called  as  mortal  to  immortal, 

Answer  hoping  none, 
Save  the  mirthless  voice  of  Echo 

Down  the  hillsides  blown. 

But  the  stars  sang  all  together, 

As  the  wondering  Night 
Held  ajar  her  purple  portals 

For  thine  earthward  flight: 

51 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

Flashed  the  swift,  auroral  radiance 

Straightway  from  the  skies, 
Flooding  with  its  white  effulgence 

Heart  and  lips  and  eyes. 

Rose  of  that  supernal  whiteness, 

First  to  mortal  view 
Then  revealed,  thou  stood'st  before  me 

Goddess,  maiden  too. 
Flower  of  all  Night's  star-bright  meadows, 

Lo,  thou  shonest  there, 
Of  thine  own  high  will  responding 

To  thy  poet's  prayer. 

Now  old  days  and  ways  forgotten, 

Fires  of  hearth  and  home, 
Face  of  waiting  sire  and  sister, 

'Mid  the  hills  I  roam. 
Poet  blest  of  all  earth's  poets, 

Whose  poor  song  to  crown, 
From  the  furthest  heights  of  heaven 

Came  a  goddess  down. 


A  Ballad  of  Queen  Etain 

A   YOUNG    HARPER   SINGS 

THOUGH    you   should   walk    a    thousand 
years 

Along  the  singing  roads  that  run 
Beneath  the  green  seas,  or  should  go 

Through  all  the  valleys  of  the  sun; 
Though  you  should  climb  the  starry  stairs 

Upon  whose  utmost  purple  height 
Girt  round  about  with  song  and  fire, 

Rose-red  desire  and  hearts-delight, 
Sits  Dana,  queen  of  gods  and  men, 

Great  mother  of  the  Danaan  race, 
Whose  eyes  eternal  torches  are 

Of  awe,  of  rapture  and  of  grace; 
Whose  lips  are  founts  whereto  shall  come, 

Their  souls  athirst  for  love  and  fame; 
Earth's  pilgrim-poets,  thence  to  take 

New  flame  and  re-awakened  flame : 
Or  should  you  racing  with  the  Moon, 

Her  flying,  foam-white  feet  outspeed, 
53 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

And  o'er  the  hedges  of  the  Night 

Take  flight  upon  a  magic  steed, 
Not  in  the  meadows  of  the  stars, 

Nor  by  the  streams  that  wind  their  way 
From  where  the  twilight  kisses  night, 

To  where  the  dawn  is  one  with  day. 
Nor,  though  by  scented  billows  borne, 

Your  feet  should  reach  those  far-flung 

Isles, 
Whence  Fand  from  great  Manannan  fled 

To  seek  her  earth-born  lover's  smiles; 
Nor  there,  nor  there,  nor  anywhere, 

In  wonder-fields  of  earth  or  sky, 
Shall  shine  upon  your  eyes  a  Queen 

Clothed  in  a  loveliness  so  high, 
As  she  in  singing  whose  bright  grace 

Gods  snatch  from  men  the  glad  refrain, 
Until  its  fragrance  fills  the  ways 

Of      earth      and     heaven — "Etain!" 
"Etain!" 

He  strikes  his  harp  with  languid  hands, 

That  younger  minstrel  chaunting  there, 
For    his    eyes'    desire    is    caught    in    the 
strands 

54 


A  BALLAD  OF  QUEEN  ETAIN 

Of  the  Queen's  bright  hair. 
And  his  soul's  desire   from  his  lips  has 
flown, 

To  bathe  in  the  blue  lake  of  her  eyes, 
While  his  song,  a  rose-leaf  passion-blown, 

Upon  his  wan  lip  dies. 


55 


The  Spirits  Mourn  for  ^Engus 


O  ^ENGUS  !  lord  forever  dear, 
To  thee  we  cry,  to  thee  we  call, 

Time  strikes  us  with  his  leaden  spear, 

The  heavy  hours  upon  us  fall  — 

Hear  us,  O  master,  hear! 

By  what  bright  seas  thy  footsteps  go, 
What  lands  are  gladdened  by  thy  grace, 

We  know  not,  this  we  only  know  — 

We  die  for  hunger  of  thy  face. 

Hear  us,  O  master,  hear! 

The  fires  are  dim  upon  thy  fanes, 
Here,  even  here,  in  golden  Brugh, 

No  song,  no  sign,  no  word  remains, 
To  speak  the  splendor  that  it  knew. 
Hear  us,  O  master,  hear! 

We  pass,  we  fade,  the  shadows  creep 
Upon  us,  drink  our  beauty  up, 

56 


SPIRITS  MOURN  FOR 

God  pours  us  on  the  lips  of  Sleep, 
And  flings  away  the  empty  cup. 
We  die!  we  die!  we  die! 


57 


II 

A  HOSTING  OF  HEROES 


A  Hosting  of  Heroes 

LORD  God  to  Thee,  a  song  of  praise 

For  these,  Thy  paladins,  we  raise; 

Each  name  of  whom  a  flag  unfurled 

Athwart  the  ramparts  of  the  world 

Remains  a  living  word  and  sign 

Of  all  that  made  or  makes  divine 

The    race    wherefrom    they    drew    their 

breath, 
The  land  they  loved  and  served  till  death. 

From  him  who  'midst  his  foes  alone, 
Self-bound  unto  the  Pillar-stone,* 
To  Doom's  grey  face  and  darkling  skies 
Turned  yet  unconquered,  sun-glad  eyes, 
To  him,  that  later  chief,f  whose  name 
Gleams  yet  a  torch  of  unquenched  flame, 
A  beacon  flung  against  the  dark, 
To  light  our  feet  to  Freedom's  ark. 

For  all  who  kept  their  sword-bright  trust, 
Their    sword-bright    faith    undimmed   of 

rust; 
*Cuchulain  fParnell 

61 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

From  whose  dead  lips  unto  our  own 
The  sacred  word  of  Duty  borne, 
Shall  yet  from  Night  uplift  our  land, 
And  work  the  glory  that  they  planned — 
For  those  we  praise,  for  these  we  laud 
Thy  everlasting  name,  Lord  God. 


62 


The  Dream  of  ^ngus  Og 

WHEN   the   rose   o'    Morn   through   the 

Dawn  was  breaking, 
And  white  on  the  hearth  was  last  night's 

flame, 

Thither  to  me  'twixt  sleeping  and  waking, 
Singing  out  of  the  mists  she  came. 

And   grey    as    the   mists    on    the    spectre 

meadows 

Were  the  eyes  that  on  my  eyes  she  laid, 
And  her  hair's  red  splendor  through  the 

shadows 

Like    to    the    marsh-fire    gleamed    and 
played. 

And   she   sang   of   the   wondrous    far-off 
places 

That  a  man  may  only  see  in  dreams, 
The  death-still,  odorous,  starlit  spaces 

Where  Time  is  lost  and  no  life  gleams. 

63 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

And  there  till  the  day  had  its  crest  up 
lifted, 

She  stood  with  her  still  face  bent  on  me, 
Then    forth    with    the    Dawn    departing 

drifted 
Light  as  a  foam-fleck  on  the  sea. 


And   now  my   heart   is   the   heart   of   a 
swallow 

That  here  no  solace  of  rest  may  find, 
For  evermore  I  follow  and  follow 

Her  white  feet  glancing  down  the  wind. 

And  forevermore  in  my  ears  are  ringing — 
(Oh!    red    lips   yet    shall    I    kiss    you 

dumb ! ) 
Twain   sole  words   of  that   May  morn's 

singing, 
Calling  to  me  "Hither!"  and  "Come!" 

From  flower-bright  fields  to  the  wild  lake- 
sedges 

Crying  my  steps  when  the  Day  has  gone, 
64 


THE  DREAM  OF  ^ENGUS  OG 

Till  dim  and  small  down  the  Night's  pale 

edges 
The  stars  have  fluttered  one  by  one. 

And  light  as  the  thought  of  a  love  for 
gotten 
The  hours  skim  past,  while  before  me 

flies 

That  face  of  the  Sun  and  Mist  begotten, 
Its  singing  lips  and  death-cold  eyes. 


Flight  of  Diarmuid  and  Grainne 

LAUGHING  she  came  to  him,  swift-footed, 

sweet, 
Laid  the  command  of  her  eyes  on  his 

eyes, 

Captured  the  soul  of  him  ardent  and  fleet, 
Whispered  him,  "Diarmuid,  my  dearest, 
arise!" 

"Yonder    the    dawn-light    cleaves    sheer 

through  the  dark, 

Morn  rises  early  to  gladden  our  way; 
Fleeing,    our  spirits   shall   soar  with   the 

lark, 
Herald  to  hymn  us  to  life's  fuller  day." 

"Ah,  but  my  loyalty !" — "Ah,  but  my  love, 
Is  that  a  little  thing,  think  you,  O  man? 

Higher  it  is  than  the  high  gods  above — 
Mated  we  were  ere  Creation  began!" 
66 


DIARMUID  AND  GRAINNE 

Then,  "But  the  bride  of  my  liege-lord  thou 

art, 
Grainne,    my   princess,    and   I    am   his 

friend." 

"Nay,  but  I  follow  the  law  of  my  heart, 
That   is   thine   only,    and  thine   to   the 
end." 

Fire  to  the  flame  of  her  wooing  he  rose, 
And  one  last  glance  at  great  Fionn  held 

fast, 
Leashed  in  the  chain  of  his  spell-wrought 

repose, 

Out  of  the   doors  of  the  palace  they 
passed. 

Stars    lingered    yet    in    the    lap    of    the 

night, 
Waiting  their  pleasure  and  wooing  them 

on, 
Yet  for  a  moment  they  paused  in  their 

flight, 

Hand    touching    hand    in    the    sweet- 
scented  dawn. 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

Lip  pressed  to  lip  in  a  virginal,  new 
Rapture  that  sped  like  white  fire  down 

each  vein, 
While  in  that  Love's  first  communion  they 

grew 

Wise  as  the  gods  are  of  bliss  and  of 
pain. 

Silent  as  gods,  when  they  quaff  the  divine 
Essence  of  life,  save  for  one  murmuied 

word; 

"Bride  of  my  soul  who  forever  art  mine !" 
"Thine  past  all  parting,  my  love  and 
my  lord!" 

Oh,  for  the  grace  of  that  journey  begun ! 
Night  fled  before  them  and  red  rose 

the  Morn, 

Then  with  fair  faces  upraised  to  the  Sun, 
Joyous  they  sang  for  the  joy  to  them 
born. 

Fearless   and   sweet  rose   their  paean  of 

praise, 

Hymning  the  love  that  makes  laughter 
of  Death, 

68 


DIARMUID  AND  GRAINNE 

Nature,    their   mother,    through    all    her 

green  ways 

Echoed   their    singing   with    rapturous 
breath. 


Diarmuid  and  Grainne  at  the  Forest 
of  Dooris 

SWEETER  than  any  life  beneath  the  sun, 
Or  any  dream  of  life  the  high  gods  deign 
To  let  upon  men's  sleeping  eyelids  shine, 
Was  that  for  these  at  Dooris  now  begun. 

For  swift  and  strong  and  beautiful,  their 

lips 

Unspoiled,  insatiate,  bent  to  kiss  the  cup 
Of  perfect  joy  the  cloudless  days  held  up — 
The   long  sweet   days   of  Light  without 

eclipse. 

For  whether  grey  or  gold  the  skies  above, 
For  them  undimmed  shone  one  imperial 

sun — 
And  other  light  their  glad   eyes  needed 

none — 

The  flame  immortal  of  their  mortal  love. 
70 


DIARMUID  AND  GRAINNE 

And  Summer  wrought  for  them  a  garden- 
close 

High-hedged  and  all  a-bloom  with  blos 
soms  rare; 

And  sweeter  all  her  roses  for  them  were 

For  that  amongst  them  gleamed  one 
Death-red  Rose. 

Yea,  and  for  that  a  little  way  outside 
The   scented   hedgerows,    clear-discerned, 

stood  Fate, 

Saying,  "Behold  a  little  while  I  wait 
The    day    that    shall    destroy    them    and 

divide!" 

Thus   fronting   always,   wheresoe'er   they 

turned, 

The  Doom  to  be  escaped  not,  nor  denied, 
The  splendor  of  the  love  that  might  have 

died 
Of  its  own  greatness  ever  brighter  burned. 

And  if  upon  their  raptured  harmonies 
Of  speech  and  glance,  a  pause,  at  times, 
would  come, 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

'Twas  but  because  great  pity  smote  them 

dumb 
For  all  their  days  that  yet  had  been  ere 

these. 

So  that  fair  Lord  the  shining  of  whose  face 
Had  lit  their  way  from  Tara  through  the 

Night, 

Love,  the  high  Emperor  of  their  delight, 
Filled  all  their  days  with  gladness   and 

with  grace. 

So  armored  in  their  own  bright  fearless 
ness 

Against  what  hap  of  sorrow  or  surprise 
The  hand  of  god  or  mortal  might  devise, 
Laughing  they  drained  their  leeless  wine 
of  bliss. 


72 


Grainne  Returns  to  Tara 

So  bright-faced  Diarmuid  slept  where  no 

to-morrow 
Should  rouse  him  with  its  bugle-call  of 

Light 
In  that   far  land  beyond  the   range   of 

sorrow 
Where  mighty  ^Engus  bore  him  through 

the  night; 
While  she  for  whom  no  morn  of  mortal 

waking 
Should  bring  again  the  radiance  of  his 

smile, 
Watched  by  him  through  the  long  days 

unforsaking, 

Deeming,  perchance,   that  for  a  little 
while, 

Might  yet  come  true  that  word  of  Angus' 

speaking, 
That,  by  his  Danaan  wizardry  restored, 

73 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

Some   shadow-semblance   of   himself   dis 
playing, 
Should  live  again  her  ever-worshipped 

lord: 

But  as  the  long,  bright  days  in  still  suc 
cession 
Passed,  bringing  no  light  to  the  dead 

man's  face, 
So   passed   from   out  her  life   in  cowled 

procession, 

All  that  had  made  its  laughter,  love  and 
grace. 

And  in  their  stead  came  that — the  last, 

best  giving 

Of  the  strong  gods — the  god-like  con 
sciousness, 
That  nevermore  through  all  her  years  of 

living, 
Should    any    great    pain,    yea,    or    any 

bliss 
Reach   to    her   soul,    where   on   its    high 

pedestal 

Of    utmost    rapture,    utmost    anguish, 
known, 

74 


GRAINNE  RETURNS  TO  TARA 

It  kept  its  state,  inviolate  and  vestal, 
A  white  lamp  burning  by  a  tomb  alone. 

But  when  no  more  the  soft,  unchequered 

splendor 
Of  those  long  days  at  Brugh  her  soul 

might  brook, 
Nor  any  further  hope  the  gods  would  lend 

her, 

To  Tara  back  her  wistful  way  she  took; 
The    courtiers    watching    with    the    avid 

vision 

Of  those  who  see  a  dead  dream  vivified, 
Beholding  in  her  eye  that  bright  decision, 
And  on  her  lip  that  red,  unconquered 
pride. 

Murmured  of  marvels  all  belief  exceed 
ing — 
Of  women's  veering  faith — dead  men 

forgot — 

Interpreting  each  by  his  own  light  reading 
Of    Life,    the    change    that    Deathless 
Grief  had  wrought; 

75 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

The    wondrous    change — that    sun-bright 

Winter  gleaming 

Of  a  great  spirit  unsubdued  of  Pain, 
That   kept   before    men's    eyes    its    royal 

seeming, 

When  long  had  vanished  love's  brief, 
radiant  reign. 

But    once — 'twas    in    the    singing    April 

weather — 
Came    lilted    to    her    on    a    vagrant 

breeze 

A  snatch  of  song  that  they  had  sung  to 
gether 
In  old,  glad  days  beneath  the  quicken 

trees ; 
And  then  for  all  she  was  a  High  King's 

daughter, 
Of  whom  no  weakness  any  man  might 

tell, 
Down  her  pale  cheeks  the  hot  tears  flowed 

like  water 

Of  brooks  released  from  Winter's  icy 
spell. 

76 


GRAINNE  RETURNS  TO  TARA 

And   "Diarmuid!"    cried    she   twice   and 

thrice,  and  falling 
Rose-white   amongst   the   lilies   at  her 

feet, 
Her  weeping  maidens  deemed  that  in  that 

calling 
Her  soul  had  sped  her  waiting  lord's  to 

greet : 
But  no   such   sweet   release   to   her   was 

given, 
Whose  fate  it  was  behind  a  quenchless 

pride 
Through  long,  grey  years  to  hide  the  spirit 

riven 

Past  mortal  hope  that  day  when  Diar 
muid  died. 


77 


Cuchulain 

"Never  will  I  break  my  vow,  nor  wrong 
my  land,  nor  sell  my  chief." 

THOU,  most  strong  and  beautiful,         i 
Thou,  most  brave  and  dutiful, 
Thou,  thy  Ulster's  shield  and  sword, 
Thou,  her  servant  and  her  lord; 
Thou  whose  deeds  athwart  the  years 
Flash,  a  burnished  field  of  spears, 
Mighty  Cuchulain! 

Thou,  whose  name  in  splendor  lone 
Rears  itself  a  pillar-stone, 
Radiant  through  the  rains  and  night, 
On  thy  land's  grey,  storied  height, 
Thou  who  scatheless  held  thy  faith 
To  thy  utmost,  labored  breath, 
Knightly  Cuchulain! 

Lo!  it  is  to  thee  I  raise 
Here,  this  testament  of  praise, 


CUCHULAIN 

Chaunting  with  glad  lips  thy  fame, 
Mouth    of   Truth    and   Soul    of    Flame; 
Light  that  shall  not  fade  or  fail, 
Sun-bright  symbol  of  the  Gael ! 
Peerless  Cuchulain! 


79 


Cuchulain's  Wooing 

GREAT-LIMBED  and  swift  and  beautiful 
Past  any  dream,  he  came  to  her 

From  Emain  Macha  through  a  land 
For  gladness  of  the  Spring  astir. 

And  on  the  flutes  of  Morning  blown, 
Strong   Joy   that  took   for  breath   no 
pause, 

The  song  of  Breeze  and  Stream  and  Bird, 
The  herald  of  his  coming  was. 

Yea,  and  through  all  her  April  ways, 
To  Erin's  utmost  sea-girt  rim, 

Through  waking  seed,  and  blade  and  leaf, 
Green  Nature  laughed  for  joy  of  him. 

And  where  he  held  his  sun-bright  course, 
Straight-sped  as  arrow  on  its  flight, 

Men  thronged  as  to  a  pageant  wrought 
By  the  high  gods  for  their  delight. 
80 


CUCHULAIN'S  WOOING 

And  seeing,  with  a  fairer  faith 

The  Deathless  Mighty  Ones  adored, 

Who  thus  unto  their  Ulster's  need 

Had  shaped  at  once  a  shield  and  sword. 

So  through  the  singing  land  he  passed, 
The  peerless  warden  of  her  fame, 

So  lord  himself  of  Love  and  War, 
Unto  his  fair-faced  love  he  came. 


81 


Emer's  Girlhood 

ROSE-BRIGHT  where  all  were  flower-fair, 
A  rose  around  whose  petals  yet 

In  order  fresh  and  odorous 

The  dreams  of  maidenhood  were  set. 

The  green  of  April  at  her  feet, 

The    joy    of    Springtime     round    her 

spread, 
The  hope  of  Summer  in  her  eyes, 

The  gold  of  sunrise  on  her  head. 

So  first  upon  the  sight  of  him 

Who  down  from  Ulster  rode  alone, 

To  bring  his  heart's  high  love  to  her, 
In  the  sweet  morning  Emer  shone. 

No  girl,  but  Spring  herself  stept   down 
Awhile  upon  that  daisied  plain, 

She   sat,   where  bright  the  lilacs  spread, 
Encompassed  by  her  maiden  train. 
82 


EMER'S  GIRLHOOD 

With  deft,  swift  skill  of  needlehood, 
Where  Fancy  led  the  flying  hand, 

Inscribing  on  a  silken  scroll 

Some  storied  glory  of  her  land. 

Till,   raising  to  his  shining  height 
Her  veiled  glance,  the  silken  scroll 

Slipped  down,  and  in  her  sea-blue  eyes 
Shone  forth  her  new-awakened  soul. 

And  rising  up,  she  placed  in  his 
Her  gentle  palm,  and  to  him  gave 

Whose  heart  was  high  for  joy  of  her, 
Her  maiden  welcome  sweet  and  grave. 


Cuchulain  to  the  Poets 

0  POETS,  when  you  sing  of  me, 
And  of  the  deeds  that  I  have  done, 
And  of  the  battles  that  I  won, 

For  Ulster  fighting  mightily; 
Praising  me  with  high  hearts  of  fire — 

1  pray  you  also  in  your  song 

Tell  men  how  once  the  World's  Desire 
Was  mine  to  love  a  whole  day  long. 

Yea,  rose-fair  face  and  mouth  of  flame — 
(O  vision  that  no  age  shall  dim!) 
At  sunrise  o'er  the  world's  bright  rim 
All  golden-raimented  she  came; 
And  leaning  on  the  green  hill  there 
To  me  in  fashion  woman-wise, 
Through  the  dark  twilight  of  her  hair, 
I  kissed  her  on  the  dew-cold  eyes. 

Aye,  kissed  until  within  their  blue 
A  mortal  woman's  spirit  shone, 
84 


CUCHULAIN  TO  THE  POETS 

Laughed  back  its  answer  to  my  own, 
And  mine  into  its  sweet  self  drew — 
Folding  me  there  with  an  old  rune 
Of  kings  enwrapped  in  magic  rest, 
Till  life  seemed  all  a  drowsy  noon, 
To  be  dreamed  out  upon  her  breast. 

Her  white  dove's  breast — O  men  of  songs ! 
This  were  a  tale  which  rightly  sung, 
Would   make   old   men   grow   glad   and 

young — 

Would  make  old  foes  forget  their  wrongs; 
For  since  this  joyous  world  begun, 
Was  never  sure  such  love  as  this 
By  mortal  man  from  woman  won — 
So  fair  a  dream,  so  brimmed  with  bliss. 

For  with  the  setting  sun  she  passed — 
Swift  flame  to  flame — her  rose-bright  face 
Still  with  that  new-won  human  grace 
Wooing  my  own  unto  the  last; 
Bidding  my  heart  to  singing  cheer 
For  joy  that  on  that  hillside  lone, 
Love  visible,  divine  and  dear, 
Had  been  through  one  long  day  its  own. 

85 


An  Earth  Spirit 

A  FLAME  that  dances  down  the  wind, 
A  swallow-wing  against  the  sky, 
An  autumn  leaf  to  brush  your  cheek, 
And  whirl  away,  no  more  am  I. 

Friends  fall,  dreams  fade,  the  gods  are 

dead. 

My  daylight  suffers  no  eclipse — 
Across  eternal  abysms 
I  kiss  to  Fate  my  finger-tips. 

For  one  am  I  in  brain  and  heart 
And  breath  with  her  who  gave  me  breath, 
Who  keeps  her  green  way  singingly 
Athwart  the  cairns  where  slumbereth 

Alike  high  Valor  and  fair  Love; 
Where  dust  the  mouth  of  Deirdre  is, 
And  on  the  lips  of  Cuchulain 
Forgotten  all  is  Emer's  kiss. 
86 


The  Magic  Isles  of  Manannan 

FAIR  past  furthest  reach  of  mortal  dream 
ing, 

Swung  beyond  the  sunset's  utmost  span, 
Golden    through    the    purple     twilight's 

gleaming, 
Lie  the  magic  Isles  of  Manannan. 

There,  beneath  green  boughs  where  fruit 

and  flower 
Bloom  together  through  the  cloudless 

year, 
There,   with  deathless  rapture   for  their 

dower, 

Their  bright  spirits   all  undimmed  of 
Fear. 

Pace  in  paired  delight,  the  fond,  immor 
tal 

Shades  whom  Honor  here  love's  goal 
denied, 

8? 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

Queens  who  would  not  step  o'er  Duty's 

portal, 

Lords  who  held  unstained  their  plumes' 
high  pride. 

Thither    sailing    through    the    pearl-pale 

splendor 

Of  a  May  moon  with  dream-sails  un 
furled, 

Shall  I  find  thee,  O  my  Queen  most  ten 
der, 

Heart's  Desire  and  White  Rose  of  the 
World. 

Yea,  and  finding,  wilt  thou  bend  to  listen 
Lily-wise — (O  unforgotten  grace!) 

Will  thy  grey  eyes  into  azure  glisten, 
And  the  rose-light  gladden  all  thy  face? 

As  at  last  the  Hidden  Word  is  spoken, 
As  at  length  the  flame-writ  script's  un 
rolled, 

As  for  aye  the  wizard  spell  is  broken 
Laid  upon  our  lips  in  Eireann  old. 
88 


MAGIC  ISLES  OF  MANANNAN 

So  I  dare  to  dream,  the  dull  years  cheat 
ing, 

Holding  yet  our  golden  vision  true, 
So  O  love  o'  mine  this  word  of  greeting 

O'er  the  Fairy  Seas  I  waft  to  you. 


The  Last  of  the  Fianna 

"They  lay  down  on  the  side  of  the  hill 
at  Teamhair  and  put  their  lips  to  the  earth, 
and  died."  (Gods  and  Fighting  Men) 

To  the  dewy  earth  they  turned  their  faces, 
Sweet,  green  mother  of  their  old  de 
light; 
They  for  whom  in  Erin  no  more  place 

was — 
They,  the  once  strong  bulwarks  of  her 

might ; 
Scarce   a   good  man's   stone-throw   from 

where  Tara 

Reared    its    shining    splendor    on    the 
height. 

Golden-shod  the  hours  in  that  fair  palace 
Danced  like  maidens  to  a  festal  song, 
But   for  them  who   drained  life's  bitter 
chalice 

90 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  FIANNA 

There  upon  the  hill,  the  day  was  long: 
Till  sweet  Death  came  down  in  the  grey 

twilight, 

Death,  whose  kind  kiss   heals  all  hu 
man  wrong. 

Kissing  now  their  lids  of  drowsing  vision 
With  a  dream  of  Life  as  it  had  been, 
Glowing  with  the  joy  of  swift  decision, 
Radiant  with  the  flash  of  sword-blades 

keen, 

Ringing  with  the  songs  of  Nature's  spring 
time, 

Crowned  with  love  of  goddess  and  of 
queen. 

Calling    to    them    through    the    trooping 

shadows, 

Beautiful,  undimmed  of  age  or  fear, 
Those  who  with  them  through  the  golden 

meadows 

In  their  morn  of  manhood  cloudless- 
clear, 

Long  ago  behind  great  Finn  the  peerless, 
Rode  to  chase  of  foeman  or  of  deer. 

91 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

So  Night  set  her  seal  upon  their  dreaming 
Of  brave  days  and  deeds  forever  gone, 

So  they  passed,  the  men  of  god-like  seem 
ing, 
With  their  faces  set  towards  the  Dawn. 

They  whose  like  in  all  her  future  story, 
Nevermore  the  earth  should  look  upon. 


92 


Of  One  Who  Died  in  Murias 

WHEN  for  a  doom  and  punishment 
God  took  the  green  tides  of  the  sea, 
And  launched  them    from  His   hand  on 

thee, 
And  all  thy  pride  was  from  thee  rent. 

Nor  all  thy  roofs  of  beaten  gold, 
Nor  all  thy  walls  of  chrysolite 
Might  save  thee  from  the  rushing  Night 
Which  down  upon  thy  splendor  rolled. 

O  Murias!  with  thee  to  death 

Went  one  whose  face  was  fairer  far 

Than  is  in  June  the  vesper  star 

Seen  from  the  moon  an  arrow's  breadth. 

Went  one  who  of  all  ladies  dead 
Wast  sure  most  fond  and  flower-fair, 
A  spirit  wrought  of  sun  and  air, 
And  all  on  dreams  and  laughter  fed. 
93 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

O  Dreams !    O  Laughter !  vain  to  stay 
The  rushing  Death,  the  green  Eclipse 
Which  surged  between  our  meeting  lips, 
Which  bore  thee  on  its  tides  away. 

White   foam!  pale  sea-drift!  at  the  will 
Of  the  cold  moon  forever  tossed — 
Thy  beauty  but  an  old  tune  lost — 
And  yet  one  heart  remembers  still. 

Yea,  though  no  harper  shall  uplift 
In  song  for  evermore  thy  name, 
And  I  am  but  a  wandering  flame 
Upon  the  world's  grey  winds  adrift. 

Undimmed  through  all  the  years  I  hold, 
Whence  no  god's  finger  may  efface — 
O  Queen!  the  shining  of  thy  face 
Beneath  its  coronal  of  gold. 


94 


The  Sleeping  Knight 

"And   the   spirit   of   Eireann   kissed   the 
Sleeper's  lips." 

BUT  One  came   past,    a   spirit   of   white 

flame, 
Who  stooped  and  kissed  him  on  the  lips 

and  eyes, 
And     whispered     in     his     ear,     "Arise ! 

Arise ! 
God's   heralds    to    the    tourney    call    thy 


name." 


Then    dream-swift    down    the    morning 

winds  she  sped, 
Who    had    for    evermore    destroyed    his 

dreams, 
And  with   a  murmured  song  of  waking 

streams, 
Him  through  dim  ways  and  dewless  meads 

she  led. 

Till  suddenly,  where  rose  a  purple  height 
Of  sunlit  hills  between  them  and  the  skies, 

95 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

A  smiting  splendor  shone  upon  his  eyes 
Of  bannered   hosts   arrayed   in    armored 
night. 

And  when  his  glance  through  dazzlement 

might  scan 
The    helmed    features    of    that    shining 

throng, 

Beneath  the  flags  of  causes  perished  long, 
He  saw  the  face  of  many  a  ruined  man. 

Yea,  side  by  side  in  order  debonair, 
The  dead,  lost  soldiers  with  the  living  men 
Who  strive  with  proven  steel  of  sword  or 

pen 
For  fairer  Justice  in  a  world  unfair. 

"God's  mail-clad  knights !"  she  said,  "Be 
hold  your  place! 

And  here  for  slakement  of  your  long 
road's  drouth, 

Again  I  kiss  you  on  the  eyes  and  mouth, 

Who  may  bestow  on  you  no  further 
grace." 


THE  SLEEPING  KNIGHT 

And  so  was  gone,  a  mist-wreath  in  the 

sun, 

No  more  nor  less,  but  he  in  that  fair  host, 
Who  reckon  well  all  things  for  Freedom 

lost, 
His  day  of  life-long  service  had  begun. 


97 


Dreaming  of  Cities  Dead 

DREAMING  of  cities  dead, 

Of  bright   Queens  vanished, 

Of  kings  whose  names  were  but  as  seed 

wind-blown 
E'en   when  white  Patrick's  voice   shook 

Tara's  throne, 
My  way  along  the  great  world-street  I 

tread, 
And  keep  the  rites  of  Beauty  lost,  alone. 

Cairns  level  with  the  dust — 
Names  dim  with  Time's  dull  rust — 
Afar  they  sleep  on  many   a  wind-swept 

hill, 
The  beautiful,   the  strong  of  heart  and 

will- 
On  whose  pale  dreams  no  sunrise  joy  shall 

burst, 

No  harper's  song  shall  pierce  with  battle- 
thrill. 

98 


DREAMING  OF  CITIES  DEAD 

Long  from  their  purpled  heights, 

Their  reign  of  high  delights, 

The  Queens  have  wended  down  Death's 

mildewed  stair, 

Leaving  a  scent  of  lilies  on  the  air, 
To  gladden  Earth  through  all  her  days 

and  nights, 
That  once  she  cherished  anything  so  fair. 


99 


The  Singers  to  Their  Lady 

Lo!  our  Lady,  we  crave  thy  grace, 

If,  for  a  little  space  between 
Grey  of  the  Dawning,  Red  of  the  Morn 
ing, 

Yet  of  beauty  and  love  we  dream. 
Soon  in  splendor  of  Freedom's  waking, 

Mountain  and  vale  of  thine  shall  gleam, 
Then  with  a  glory  of  swords  upflashing 

Shall  we  hail  and  proclaim  thee  Queen ! 


100 


An  Irish  Enchantment 

THERE'S   a   ripple   and  shower  of  song- 
drops  shaken, 

A  brown  wing  whirrs  through  the  white 
thorn  spray — 

O  soul  of  mine  from  your  dream  awaken ! 
Sweet,  green  Erin  is  far  away. 

Here  is  no  highway  of  singing  thrushes — 
Onward  with  thunderous  roar  and  din, 

The  great  life-stream  of  the  city  rushes, 
Avid  to  draw  me  in. 

Yet  over  it  all,  the  wild,  faint  laughter 
Of  grasses  astir  beneath  the  moon, 

Cries,  "Come!"    "Come!"   "Come!"  and 

I  follow  after 
The  whispering,   elfin  tune. 

And  my  feet  are  winged  with  a  blind  de 
sire 

For   brackened    hills    where    the    star- 
beams  rest, 

101 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

And  dead  as  the  ash  of  a  last  year's  fire 
Is  the   spirit  within  my  breast. 

Is  it  not  time  to  cease  your  dreaming, 
Lost  and  wandering  heart  o'  me  say? 

O  fairy  eyes  through  the  thickets  gleam 
ing, 
You've  stolen  my  soul  away ! 


102 


O  Radiant  Faith  of  Ireland 

O  RADIANT  Faith  of  Ireland !  Thou  light 
of  many  lands; 

Thou  flame  that  goest  our  feet  before, 
thou  torch  within  our  hands. 

Thou  golden  span  across  the  gulf  of  sun 
dering  ages  cast, 

Thou  glory  shining  yet  undimmed  from 
out  our  splendid  past. 

On  thee  as  on  a  bulwark  strong  of  old 

our  sires  leant, 
Through  thee  has  Ireland's  sun-bright  soul 

to  all  earth's  peoples  sent 
Her    word    of    an    Imperial    Hope — of 

Truth,  serene,  divine, 
Of  Heaven-born  Joy  all  unobscured  by 

chance  or  change  or  time. 

Thou  fortress  reared  by  Patrick's  hand, 
that  o'er  the  ravening  flood 

Of  hostile  laws,  of  despot  rage,  still  storm- 
unwreckt  hast  stood; 
103 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

From  whose  bright  portals  down  the  years 

true  heralds  of  the  Dawn, 
From  East  to  West,  their  Lord  to  preach, 

the  Irish  priests  have  gone. 

Yea,  priest  and  poet,  saint  and  sage,  and 

whoso  yet  would  trace 
The  roadways  trodden  of  their  feet  along 

the  world's  wide  face, 
Shall  find  it  by  fair  towns  that  lift  brave 

spires  into  the  air, 
Shall  find  it  by  the  shrines  they  raised — 

their  Death-unsilenced  prayer. 

And  one  with  us  in  name  and  fame,  in  life 
and  death  thou  art, 

Life  of  our  life,  soul  of  our  soul,  heart  of 
our  inmost  heart: 

Alike  in  gladness  as  in  woe,  in  triumph  as 
in  loss, 

Our  Ireland  on  her  bosom  wears  the  sym 
bol  of  the  Cross. 

Her  children  throng  the  waterways  where 
pass  the  mighty  ships, 
104 


O  RADIANT  FAITH  OF  IRELAND 

Still  pioneers  of  God  they  come,  a  prayer 

upon  their  lips; 
Still  bearing  to  their  lineage  true,  Faith's 

fertilizing  rain, 
To  blossom  forth  in  stranger  lands  in 

many  a  shining  fane. 

And  blest  and  proud  forever  be  the  word 
that  o'er  the  earth 

Joins  "Irish"  and  "Catholic"  in  one  in 
stinctive  breath ; 

That  said,  perchance  not  all  in  praise,  be 
comes  our  two-edged  blade, 

Wherewith  to  win  in  Truth's  defense, 
God's  knightly  accolade. 


105 


Legendary  and  Mythological  Index 


AENGUS  OG  (Angus  Off). — Literally  "Young 
Aengus,"  the  Gaelic  god  of  love  and  beauty  and 
immortal  youth,  whose  fairy  towers  rose  at 
Brugh-na-Boinne.  Of  him  it  was  said  that  his 
kisses  as  they  fell  from  his  lips  became  singing 
birds.  One  of  the  many  beautiful  legends  asso 
ciated  with  him  is  that  of  the  maiden,  who  for 
the  space  of  a  twelvemonth,  appeared  to  him  at 
the  same  hour  every  night,  never  speaking,  only 
singing  to  a  little  golden  harp  which  she  carried 
in  her  hands.  At  the  end  of  that  time  she  dis 
appeared,  and  Aengus  began  a  tireless  search  for 
her  throughout  Ireland.  He  finally  discovered 
her,  leading  an  enchanted  existence  as  a  swan  on 
the  waters  of  a  certain  lake.  He  called  her  by 
her  name  (Caer),  she  responded,  and  in  the 
morning,  he  also  having  assumed  the  form  of  a 
swan,  they  flew  off  together  to  his  palace  at 
Brugh,  their  singing  filling  with  delight  the 
whole  country  through  which  they  passed. 

AfNE    (Ai-ne). — Goddess    of    love    and    fire. 

The  poem  "Goddess  and  Poet,"  commemorates  a 

strange,  Tannhauser-like  legend,  which  represents 

Aine  in  the  Christian  Ireland  of  the  thirteenth 

I07 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

century,  responding  to  the  wooing  of  Thomas,  the 
Wizard  Earl  of  Desmond. 

BRUGH. — The  dwelling-place  of  Aengus  in  the 
Boyne  Valley.  (This  Valley,  so  rich  in  legendary 
and  historic  lore,  is  within  a  two  hours'  journey 
from  Dublin.) 

CONCHUBAR  (C6n-ov-ar). — Known  also  as 
Connor  MacNessa,  High  King  of  Ulster  about 
the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era,  founder  of  the 
chivalric  order  of  the  Red  Branch  Knighthood, 
and  opponent  of  Queen  Maeve  of  Connacht  in 
her  long  wars  upon  Ulster. 

CORMAC  CONLOINGIAS. — The  warrior-son  of 
Conchubar,  said  to  have  come  to  tragic  death 
through  his  love  for  Sceanba,  who  was  also  be 
loved  of  Craftaine  the  Harper.  They  met  for 
the  last  time  at  Ath-luin  on  the  Shannon,  and 
there  she  planted  a  "little  tree  and  called  it 
Death." 

CUCHULAIN  (Coo-hoo-lin) . — The  supreme 
type  of  Celtic  chivalry,  the  champion  of  Ulster 
in  the  protracted  wars  waged  by  Maeve  and  Con 
chubar.  The  pillar-stone  at  which  he  died  is  still 
pointed  out  near  Dundalk,  Co.  Louth. 

DECTERA. — Sister  of  Conchubar,  mother  of 
Cuchulain.  The  latter  was  the  son  of  Sualtim, 
but  popular  story  represented  Dectera  as  having 
been  beloved  and  espoused  by  Lugh  the  great  sun- 
god  of  all  the  Celts. 

108 


MYTHOLOGICAL  INDEX 

DE  DANAAN  (Tuatha-de-Danaan). — Posses 
sors  of  Ireland  at  the  time  of  the  Milesian  land 
ing,  and  conquered  by  the  latter,  this  magic,  mys 
tic  race  exercised  their  wizard  powers  by  making 
for  themselves  homes  in  forest,  stream  and  moun 
tain.  They  were  the  heroic  forerunners  of  the 
diminutive  modern  Irish  fairy. 

DIARMUID  AND  GRAINNE  (Dermid  and  Gran- 
va). — King  Cormac  MacArt  gave  a  banquet  at 
Tara,  to  celebrate  the  betrothal  of  his  beautiful 
daughter,  Grainne  to  Fionn  MacCumhail  (Finn 
McCool).  But  Grainne,  noting  among  Finn's 
followers,  the  noble  and  handsome  Diarmuid 
O'Dyna,  at  once  loved  him.  Administering  to 
Finn  and  such  others  at  the  banquet  as  were 
likely  to  oppose  her  will,  a  sleeping-portion,  she 
besought  Diarmuid  to  go  forth  with  her.  This 
he  at  first  refused,  but  finally  yielded.  Then,  for 
a  space  they  found  refuge  from  the  anger  of  Finn 
in  the  Forest  of  Dooris.  Time,  however,  appar 
ently  healed  Finn's  wrath,  and  it  was  many  years 
afterwards  when  Diarmuid  died,  killed  by  a  wild- 
boar  of  magic  origin.  Then  Aengus,  who  had 
fostered  Diarmuid,  bore  the  dead  man's  body 
back  to  Brugh,  promising  to  restore  it  to  a  sem 
blance  of  life.  Several  versions  are  given  of 
Grainne's  subsequent  action,  but  the  writer  has 
here  chosen  the  kindlier  one. 

DEIRDRE. — Of  Deirdre,  a  child  of  great 
beauty,  it  was  prophesied  at  her  birth,  she  would 
be  the  cause  of  great  disasters.  To  save  her  from 
this  destiny,  King  Conchubar  had  her  reared  in 
extreme  solitude,  with  the  intention  of  making 
109 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

her  his  Queen.  She,  however,  meeting  in  early 
girlhood,  Naoise  (Nay-sha),  a  distinguished  war 
rior  of  the  Red  Branch  Knighthood,  wed,  and 
fled  with  him,  and  his  two  brothers,  Ardan  and 
Ainle  to  Scotland.  Thence,  at  the  end  of  seven 
years  they  returned  to  Ireland,  at  the  invitation 
of  Conchubar.  The  invitation  was  but  a  death 
trap  to  the  three  brothers.  Versions  as  to  Deir- 
dre's  ending  vary,  but  all  are  highly  tragic.  In 
"Deirdre  to  her  Women,"  the  writer  has  chosen 
that  form  of  the  story,  which  tells  that  Deirdre, 
after  the  death  of  Naoise,  lived  as  the  bride  of 
Conchubar  for  the  space  of  a  twelvemonth ;  and, 
at  the  end  of  that  time,  terminated  her  sorrows, 
by  leaping  from  Conchubar's  chariot,  on  a  day 
when  the  King  was  driving  it  at  its  utmost  speed. 
Many  have  found  it  difficult  to  reconcile  this 
story  of  treachery  and  death  with  the  otherwise 
very  noble  and  lofty  attributes  of  Conchubar's 
character. 

EMAIN  MAC  HA. — The  palace  of  the  Ulster 
Kings. 

EMER. — The  heroic  and  beautiful  wife  of  Cu- 
chulain.  She  died  on  beholding  the  slain  body  of 
her  lord,  and  was  buried  in  the  one  grave  with 
him. 

ETAIN. — The  half-fairy  wife  of  Eochy,  High- 
King  of  Ireland.  She  was  the  object  of  a  pro 
longed  strife  between  the  latter,  and  Midair, 
King  of  Fairyland,  in  which  the  mortal  king  was 
finally  the  victor.  Irish  legend  is  rich  in  descrip 
tions  of  her  beauty. 

IIO 


MYTHOLOGICAL  INDEX 

FIANNA. — The  great  body  of  trained  fighting- 
men  commanded  by  Finn  McCool. 

FIONN. — Finn  McCool,  who  organized  the 
Fianna  in  the  reign  of  King  Cormac  McArt,  to 
protect  Ireland,  and  who,  to  great  gifts  of  valor 
and  beauty,  added  that  of  poetry. 

FINOVAR. — "Findabair  of  the  Fair  Eyelids," 
the  beautiful  daughter  of  Queen  Maeve  of  Con- 
nacht,  to  win  whose  hand  in  marriage,  Ferdia, 
the  boyhood  friend  of  Cuchulain,  fought  with  the 
latter,  and  was  unwillingly  slain  by  the  Ulster 
champion.  Held  up  as  a  sort  of  marriage  trophy 
by  her  warrior-mother  to  the  princes  whom  she 
sought  to  win  to  her  standard,  Findabair  perished 
in  the  flower  of  her  girlhood.  The  poem  in  the 
present  volume  was  suggested  by  one  of  John  P. 
Campbell's  pictures,  as  were  also  the  two  poems, 
"Saba  comes  to  Finn,"  and  "The  Coming  of 
Finn." 

LUGH. — The  supreme  sun-god  of  the  Celts. 

MAEVE. — The  great  war-queen  of  Connacht, 
the  untiring  foe  of  Ulster,  is  described  as  a 
woman  of  commanding  loveliness.  While  there 
is  no  legendary  origin  for  a  "Greek  Lover  of 
Maeve,"  the  romance  is  within  the  possibilities. 

MANANNAN. — The  Celtic  god  of  Ocean,  lord 
of  the  Isles  of  the  Happy  Dead,  protector  of  Erin. 

MURIAS. — One  of  the  four  magic  cities  from 
which  the  De  Danaans  are  said  to  have  originally 
come. 

Ill 


SINGING  FIRES  OF  ERIN 

SABA. — Irish  legend  tells  no  more  wistful  story 
than  that  of  this  woodland  maiden,  who  came  for 
a  little  while  to  be  the  mortal  bride  of  Finn 
McCool,  and  was  later,  through  Druidical  en 
chantment,  transformed  into  the  appearance  of  a 
fawn.  From  her  union  with  Finn  sprang  Ossian, 
Ireland's  first  great  poet. 

ULAIDH. — Ulster. 


112 


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